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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23986843">Cut the Tension</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDisdayne/pseuds/LadyDisdayne'>LadyDisdayne</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>2020 Quarantine, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, But with health issues, COVID-19 (Coronavirus), Chef Bucky Barnes, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, Knives, Love in the Time of Coronavirus, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mentioned Wade Wilson, Misunderstandings, Non-graphic description of torture, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Social distancing dating, War Veteran Bucky Barnes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:15:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,280</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23986843</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDisdayne/pseuds/LadyDisdayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bored with quarantine life, Steve puts up a sign offering free knife sharpening. What he doesn’t expect is a hot, albeit creepy, stranger to drop off some of the weirdest, most specialized knives he had ever seen at midnight, and then keep coming back.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers &amp; Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers &amp; Sam Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>144</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>448</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: This is entirely based on this picture: https://twitter.com/AlaynaMCole/status/1248091001601712130?s=20</p>
<p>I know like next to nothing about knife sharpening - I pay a guy that's like 100 years old to sharpen mine when they need it. All of the knives mentioned are based on real ones I’ve seen/lusted over. </p>
<p>This is finished and will update every couple days.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Once COVID-19 had started to really spread, Steve’s asthma and immune system issues had driven him into quarantine well before most of the city. Luckily, his marketing gig with Stark Industries wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon and he was able to do a lot of his work from home. It seemed like, if anything, he got busier with an onslaught of new needs from departments that were trying to stay ahead of the curve and advertise their relief aid programs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, even working most of the day hadn’t stopped the pure boredom from seeping in, and soon  the depression and anxiety of being alone had started. Not even setting up “Zoom Workouts” a few times a week with Sam and the frequent video chats with Natasha and Thor had done much to lessen the ache of being alone in his apartment 24/7.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he started sharpening. And kept sharpening until all thirty of his kitchen knives had been done. Then he moved on to the various scissors and razors and box cutters that he could find in his apartment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few years prior, after a midnight binge on YouTube, and a bit too much encouragement from Natasha, Steve had taken up knife sharpening so he could stop paying someone else to do it for him when his kitchen knives got dull. He started with just a basic sharpening set from Amazon. He found it to be soothing, methodical, and surprisingly, much simpler than he had anticipated. It had quickly taken on a life of its own and he found himself with a real, much more expensive whetstone set and all of the accessories. And now, suddenly, way too much time on his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was day thirty-fucking-whatever of the lockdown in New York and Steve was pretty sure he was going to lose his goddamn mind. So out of pure desperation, he put up the sign on the notice board next to the mail boxes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>KNIVES-SHARPENED </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>FREE </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>BORED - DONE ALL MINE </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>TEXT ME- STEVE - XXX-XXX-XXXX</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, he had expected some of the neighbors he knew to text and that Clint, the landlord, would probably ask him about weird shit, like arrowheads and pizza cutters. He had set monthly sharpenings for Natasha and the some of the other neighbors. What he hadn’t expected was an unknown number to blow up his phone at midnight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unknown 12:04 AM:</span>
  <em>
    <span> You the knife guy?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unknown 12:05 AM:</span>
  <em>
    <span> Steve?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unknown 12:05 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’ll really do them for free?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:07 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yep, that’s me! Have some knives for me to sharpen?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unknown 12:08 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>A few? Think you could do a couple right now? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sleep schedules meant nothing to anyone anymore, so Steve agreed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:10 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why the hell not. I’m in 4B. Just leave them at the door and knock.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There wasn’t an answer, so Steve crawled off his couch and threw on a pair of pants and found one of his masks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Five minutes later, he jumped when someone banged on his door followed by a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Steve unbolted the door, finding a black bag at his feet that he retrieved. It’s heft was slightly unsettling and he regretted his choice of the word “free.” He sighed and turned to go back inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve yelped and almost dropped the knives when a deep, muffled voice echoed down the hallway, “Text me when you’re done. I need them for work in a few hours.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a man about ten feet down the hallway, standing perfectly still, his face half covered by the most intimidating mask Steve had ever seen, some kind solid plastic and metal black respirator. Shoulder length hair further masked the man’s features, surrounding his face in shadow. Even with the distance, the guy's blue-eyed stare was piercing. Under normal circumstances, Steve would have ventured to even say the man was beautiful. As it was, he was a bit terrifying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve stuttered, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Yeah, yeah I can do that.” What was he going to do? Say no to the possible axe-murderer in the hall?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve was by no means a small dude, six foot himself and solid muscle from years of working out to get past his health issues. The guy had to be at least as tall as Steve, and just as built. The black leather jacket and heavy boots just made him look that much bigger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” And with that, the mystery man sauntered down the hall to the elevator bays.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve bolted back inside, locking both the deadbolt and chain lock on his door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell have I gotten myself into,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought, looking at the bundle he had carried in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t entirely sure what “few hours” meant to Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Scary, so Steve got to work. He gloved up and unrolled the bundle to start sanitizing and was surprised by what he saw. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bag itself turned out to be a knife </span>
  <em>
    <span>roll</span>
  </em>
  <span> made out of soft leather, embossed with a stylized burgundy J.B.B and five point star, the blood red barely distinguishable from the black material. Inside, arranged by size were seven of the, frankly, weirdest knives Steve had ever seen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once all seven had been inspected and unpacked, Steve had to take a few moments and just stare. It soon became obvious that it was some sort of chef’s set, Steve recognizing the basic function and form of each, if not the exact style. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The handles and blades themselves varied greatly, from the smallest, a mere three inches long and double bladed, to the largest, a cleaver of some sort that was a almost a half inch wide on the spine, with the eight inch blade itself spanning probably five and a half inches from spine to the blade’s cutting edge, completely squared off instead of tapered. The blade had been forged from some variant of </span>
  <span>Damascus steel, metal that had been repeatedly layered and folded, creating unique designs in the metal itself. The craftsmanship of this particular Damascus was exquisite, designed to mimic hundreds of undulating rings that swirled into tide pools of monochromatic shades of silver. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The handle mirrored the blade’s rings only in shocking swirls of color. The rainbowed wood was well worn, smooth and silky with age, but obviously treated with great care. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no uniformity or reason to the collection, with four of the seven patterned with different Damascus styles. The other three, including the smallest, were no less beautiful despite their plain blades. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The handles were works of art, ranging from polished simple wood, to one crafted in rings of burl wood and possibly gold, and a couple, like the cleaver, that were stained a rainbow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the simpler ones, a smaller utility knife with an elegant ebony handle, had been made using some sort of rasp or file, leaving the metal roughly textured along the spine that transitioned into a smooth cutting surface. The rough area could serve a dual purpose as a microplane or zester of some kind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who the hell is this guy?” Steve muttered to himself. He wasn’t sure if he was more scared of ruining one of the blades while he sharpened it, or of the guy that dropped them off if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>sharpen them in time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sighed and got to work, over thinking what type of person drops off a fortune's worth of crazy as fuck knives at midnight. He must be some kind of high profile chef, if he could afford custom knives like these. Other options included assassin and crazed out murderer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he knew it, it was near 3:00 am and Steve was packing up the last knife, the dual bladed, possibly some sort of paring knife. His arms ached slightly, some of the blades, despite being well cared for, had been terribly dull and required a bit of extra care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had also spent time researching what he could on some of the knives, making sure they were getting the best care he could give. It had paid off too, what he thought had been the cleaver had turned out to be a nakiri, a Japanese style vegetable knife that required a finer edge then he would have given a cleaver. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 2:57 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, knives are ready. Let me know when you are coming and I’ll put them outside. I don’t dare leave these out there for long. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve didn’t get an immediate reply, so he peeled off his stained and metal dust coated shirt and went about cleaning up the mess he had made. He was debating just crawling into bed around 3:30 when his phone pinged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unknown 3:29 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Be there in 5</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve hurried and pulled on his mask and put the knives about ten feet down the hall towards the elevator bays. After spending that much time on them, he was really reluctant to leave them alone in the hall. It’s not like he lived in a bad building, he just wanted to make sure they got back to their owner safely. To ensure his own safety. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Five minutes later, the elevator chimed open and Steve almost didn’t recognize the man that stepped out. The leather had been replaced with a soft, very </span>
  <em>
    <span>tight</span>
  </em>
  <span> henley and well fitted jeans, showing off very well defined muscles. His hair had been pulled back into a high bun, exposing sharp cheekbones and highlighting the stormy blue of his eyes. Even without being able to see more than half of his face, the man was </span>
  <em>
    <span>gorgeous</span>
  </em>
  <span>. In any other situation, Steve would have wanted to climb him like a tree, but as it was...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mask was as creepy as ever. With it being more exposed, Steve noticed just how intense it was, judging by the dent it left by tightly covering his face. It couldn’t be comfortable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve gestured to where he had left the bag down the hall, and, trying to make the whole thing less murder-in-the-hallway-esque , asked, “So, what restaurant do you work at?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man glanced at Steve as he picked up the bag and answered, “I don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, okay then</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Steve thought, “Well, okay then.” Steve said, really not sure what else he could say. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve was almost sure he heard a muffled, “Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Figuring that would be the end of it, Steve gave a half wave back as the doors slid closed and went to bed. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all for the lovely comments and kudos! </p>
<p>I forgot to thank my most wonderful beta <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibiobiwan/">Chibiobiwan</a> - without them this would have never happened, literally- they are the one who sent me the inspiration pic in the first place.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Steve woke up the next day, he deeply questioned if everything had been a quarantine loneliness induced, twisted wet dream. A quick glance at the mess still waiting for him on his counter reassured him it was indeed not. He had to talk to someone about it, and Nat was always down for a good video chat about Steve’s drama. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nat, you should have seen him. I felt like I was living the SNL ‘sign me up as scared and horny’ bit. All muscle and leather, and that fucking henley should be </span>
  <em>
    <span>illegal. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And a guy could wax poetic about his storm blue eyes. But who the hell has a set of knives like that, and, more importantly, who would just let </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>sharpen them for him?!</span>
  <em>
    <span>” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything is closed, he’s probably desperate. Maybe more desperate than you are to get into his pants. And it's not like you’re bad at it. I’ve loved it every time you have done mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but yours are like $75 IKEA knives. If anything I found on Google was right, the set was probably worth more than my entire apartment! And I don’t want to get into his pants. He’s terrifying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I highly doubt that, Steven.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sighed, knowing she was probably right. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I feel like I am going crazy, Nat. This quarantine’s got me lusting after the murderer that had me sharpen his </span>
  <em>
    <span>knife </span>
  </em>
  <span>collection at 1:00 in the damn morning. But his </span>
  <em>
    <span>ass. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And his damn man-bun. It looked so soft, Nat. Man buns aren't attractive. At all. But on this guy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot damn… </span>
  </em>
  <span>It would almost be worth getting murdered over just to be able to run my hands through it.  I don’t even think he lives here,  I would’ve remembered seeing those biceps around the building. Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span>, how did he get my number?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will you stop panicking for five minutes. Jesus, Steve. You would think you had never seen a hot guy before. Plus, you’re the one who put up the ugly ass sign by the mailboxes. What did you think was going to happen? The love of your life was gonna show up with some knives for you to sharpen?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Just that I could help out some of the folks in the building, maybe practice my sharpening skills,” Nat smiled her cheshire grin like she knew something he didn’t. He hated when she did that, it meant she was up to something and he was in for it,“Stop that face Nat. What are you thinking?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Absolutely nothing. Now tell me what groceries you need me to pick up. And for the love of god, don’t you dare fucking ask for toilet paper. People are going batshit for it and I haven’t seen any in weeks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, now that you mention it…” Steve grimaced. “I am actually down to my last four rolls.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glared. “You’re kidding me right? Like this is a joke right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve laughed. “I really wish it was. They are the huge mega rolls though, so I should be good for a couple weeks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, good thing for mega rolls. I wouldn’t want to have to kill a man over toilet paper.” Steve almost didn’t think that was a joke, Natasha could be downright terrifying when she wanted to be. “I’ll keep an eye out. What else do you need?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve went through this list of basic needs for the next couple weeks. They had a pretty good system going, Natasha would pick up his groceries when she got hers and Steve would help her out with marketing for her, now mostly online, private dance instructing. It kept Steve out of harm’s way and was hopefully helping keep Natasha’s classes going. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After saying goodbye, Steve went back to work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t even think (much) about the hot knife guy until a few days later, when again at midnight he got a text from the unknown number.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unknown 12:05 AM:</span>
  <em>
    <span> You up? I have more for you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sighed. He had been trying to catch up on some work after spending most of the day goofing around and should probably say no. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then his mind flashed to the guy’s tight shirt and jeans. It would be a shame to miss out on seeing those again. Plus, he had to admit he was curious if the guy would bring him something new and challenging again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:11 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, bring them on down. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve got up and got ready for another run of crazy knives and added the unknown number as a contact. A few minutes later, the slam/ knock reverberated through the apartment. Steve gave the guy a minute to walk away and opened the door. The bag was much lighter and very narrow this time, but about two feet long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time, Steve thought he was ready for the muffled voice to echo down the hall. His yelp proved otherwise when the guy said, “It’s actually only one. Text me,” from the elevator bay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep! Got it, thanks! I should be done soon then!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll see,” came the deep, cryptic reply as the doors slid shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shuttered a bit, not sure if he was scared or turned on, and carried the case inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:21 AM:</span>
  <em>
    <span> Nat he’s back. He just dropped a single knife off and it was so much creepier than last time. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha 12:24 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just polish the man’s knife Steve. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve rolled his eyes and opened the new knife case. This one one was black canvas, envelope folded and tied closed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Holy fuck.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Steve whispered. This wasn’t a knife, it was a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>sword. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sitting at at least 21 inches long, the blade was only about two inches deep for almost the entire length. It had a gentle curve at the tip that would allow it to easily be pushed into something. About an inch from the hilt, Steve was refusing to see this as anything other than a sword, the white steel blade suddenly cut down to a mear half inch, which was mounted into a light, octagonal wooden handle. It was by far the simplest this guy had brought thus far, but it was obviously specific to cutting deep into something large. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:27 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>LOOK AT THIS FUCKING THING!!!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Image Attached</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The banana is for scale. ITS AT LEAST 2 BANANA GUYS ! 2!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha 12:31 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lets just hope he isn’t compensating for something </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:32 AM</span>
  <em>
    <span>: Really, Nat? That’s where you take this? HE BROUGHT ME A SWORD</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor 12:33 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>A mighty weapon indeed! Let’s hope Natasha isn’t right ;) </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam 12:34 AM</span>
  <em>
    <span>: Pretty sure I saw one of those on YouTube. Try looking up massive sushi knives. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve did exactly that. It turned out to be a type of knife used to break down large pieces of fish by sushi restaurants. Why this guy had one, was anyone’s guess. Steve just got to sharpening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took him over an hour to be satisfied with the blade and Steve found himself grateful it was only the one. He sent the text and had just finished cleaning up when he got the reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Murder By Death 1:43 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>K. OMW</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve double checked the knife and set it out in the hall just as the elevator doors opened. Steve was stopped dead in his tracks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he thought the henley should have been illegal, then the navy blue tank top was Steve’s death sentence. The man bun had returned, as had the sinister mask, but Steve couldn’t stop staring at the great expanse of muscle and skin left bare by the tight shirt, along with the guy's </span>
  <em>
    <span>metal </span>
  </em>
  <span>left arm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve vaguely recognized the design as one of Stark’s — he had helped design the volunteer recruitment campaign a few years back. It had been one of Steve’s favorite projects— Stark had not only paid for the prosthetic outright, making sure the researchers and staff had all gotten paid for their time and effort, but he also made sure every volunteer had guaranteed complete medical care for life plus a bonus check when the test was completed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s attention was drawn back to the man’s downright stunning body as he bent to pick up the knife, showing off the man’s assets in the best possible way. Steve vaguely wondered if the guy could lift him. He shook his head, it was better to not leap down </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>rabbit hole. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you do then?” Steve blurted, curiosity getting the better of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said you don’t work in a restaurant? What do you do then?” Steve felt like he was digging his own grave. He needed to learn how to keep his questions to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was what could have been a sigh, “Whatever I can.” It sounded sad, tired, even while still being growled through the mask. Steve didn’t have time to respond before the elevator chimed again and the other man gave Steve a small wave as the doors closed.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>Over the next couple weeks, they settled into a new, if not strange, routine. Every couple days Steve would get a late night text asking if he was up for sharpening some knives. Sometimes it was one or two, and other nights it was entire ten piece sets of steak knives with bright blue </span>
  <em>
    <span>turquoise </span>
  </em>
  <span>handles. Mystery man would drop them off, grunt to text him, and then stride away. When he came back to pick them up, he was almost always in new clothes, usually workout gear and even pajamas once or twice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, it wasn’t even knives that showed up on his doorstep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Colonel Mustard in the Library with a Knife 12:13 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Can you do some right now? They’re pretty small. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:17 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sure thing! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They did their strange little hallway exchange dance and Steve did his normal sanitation on the frosted glass and polished wood case. He popped open the lid, excited and leary to see what a box like this would contain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It sure the hell wasn’t knives. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two dozen small, two prong forks were nestled on a bed of silk. Each was about three inches long, cast in a bronze stained steel that had been stamped with a five pointed star on the handle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:26 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Image Attached </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:27:AM </span>
  <em>
    <span>Any guesses? I’m kinda leaning towards a skewer of some kind. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam 12:30 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I have no fucking clue. You should just stab him with it and be done.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor 12:31 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>They are kind of precious - so tiny </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha 12:33 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, god, are those cheese forks? I haven’t seen something like that in years. How tacky.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:36 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>WTF How am I supposed to sharpen a tiny ass fork?!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The answer turned out to be carefully. Very carefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thing was, even after all the weird ones and the tenth time the guy sent him a request, Steve found himself always saying yes. It was like he couldn’t help it. He started to crave the real human interaction, no matter how brief or awkward it was. It was embarrassing just how attracted Steve was to the guy, even with the mask. He knew it was most likely the quarantine talking, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve just wished he could get the other man to actually talk or text, but didn’t want to be the one to text first, just in case there really was something up with the guy. Being an accessory to murder was not part of his quarantine plans. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After sharpening, and in some cases resharpening, about forty of this guy's knives, and watching his ass strut down the hallway in tight pants, Steve realized that maybe he could the first step by actually asking for his actual name instead of renaming his contact various knife puns and murder mystery movie references every time he messaged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deciding to ask in person to hopefully make it less weird, Steve found himself nervous the next time they had a drop off. Unfortunately, the other guy didn’t stick around like he normally did after a drop off and was gone by the time Steve opened the door. His anxiety growing, Steve spent a bit longer sharpening this knife then he normally would have to try and plan what he would say. This one was yet another chef’s knife, this one’s metal stained rainbow chrome with a black wooden handle that had been sealed with glittering resin. It was borderline obnoxious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, feeling like a giant ball of nerves, Steve finished up and sent the standard pick up text. The response was almost immediate, startling Steve. He got the knife ready and in the normal location. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t have to wait long for the elevators to chime. Tonight's outfit was incredibly distracting, especially the stupid gym shorts that where just short enough to send Steve’s imagination into overtime. By the time Steve recovered, he had already grabbed the knife and was heading away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! What’s your name, anyways?” Steve asked, trying to keep his tone light to hide the obvious nervous stutter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other man turned back to Steve and the faint reply sure sounded a lot like “Fuck-y,” or even a nice “Fuck you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stunned and unsure of how to reply to that, Steve just went inside and crawled into bed. Maybe he was done sharpening knives for a while. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, so, you may have noticed that the number of chapters has changed from 8 to 6. I made a decision to help with flow and ended up combining some stuff.<br/>Again, a big ‘ol thanks to my beta Chibiobiwan.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning, Steve felt like shit. He had spent what felt like the entire night awake, mind flipping between dwelling how he had messed up so bad and wondering if he really should be worried about the mystery man coming back to stab him. Thinking about it made his heart ache and mind spin in confusion. </p>
<p>Steve shouldn’t be letting it get to him as much as he was. He hadn’t even seen the guy’s whole face and had barely said a hundred words to him in their three weeks worth of interactions. But, just seeing another actual human being had made him feel a little less alone, even if the guy was a bit scary. Now that he knew that even that little bit of human interaction was gone, the loneliness he felt was even more unbearable. </p>
<p>Steve 10:03 AM: <em> Well, done with the knife thing for a while. Nat, would you pull the sign down when you grab the mail?  </em></p>
<p>Sam 10:07 AM: <em> What? You’re giving up your tri-weekly lust fest?  </em></p>
<p>Natasha 10:08 AM: <em> What the hell happened? And yeah, I can grab the sign. Do you want it trashed? </em></p>
<p>Steve 10:13 AM: <em> I asked about his name last night and he said “fuck you” and left. I think I really pissed him off.  </em></p>
<p>Steve 10:14 AM: <em> Trash would be great thanks </em></p>
<p>Natasha 10:17 AM: <em> He said those exact words? You’re sure. </em></p>
<p>Steve 10:19 AM: <em> Well with the mask, it came out more as “Fuck-y”, but yeah I got the meaning. </em> </p>
<p>Sam 10:21 AM: <em> Damn dude, that’s rough. Should have stabbed him while you had the chance.  </em></p>
<p>Thor 10:26 AM: <em> I can have Loki stab him if you wish. He is sneaky like that and has some fancy knives of his own </em></p>
<p>Steve 10:30 AM:<em> I’ll keep it in mind. I think I’m gonna just be done for now. Maybe find a new hobby, so if you guys have any other ideas of how to fill my nights, let me know.  </em></p>
<p>Steve threw his phone on the table and tried to get to work, telling himself that he needed to move on with his life. </p>
<hr/>
<p>— Three Weeks Ago in an Apartment Two Floors Away — </p>
<p>“James, my dear, what did you get up to last night? I’ve heard someone was terrorizing the neighbors.” Bucky jumped and dropped his ice cream sandwich at the question, not expecting Natasha to be around as he dug through the freezer at midnight. He had had a terribly long day and just wanted to eat some junk food and get some sleep before having to go back to work the next morning. </p>
<p>“What the hell are you talking about? Social distancing, remember? It was probably <em> you </em>terrorizing the neighbors.”</p>
<p>“So wandering the halls to get your fancy ass knives sharpened just had to be taken care of at <em> midnight </em> last night?”</p>
<p>“I needed them sharpened before I went in today. The onsite ones are trash. And you told me the guy with the shitty ad in the hall was good.”</p>
<p>“He is good. Very good, but that didn’t mean you should text the poor guy at midnight.”</p>
<p>“Psh, like time of day means anything anymore. I needed it done, and he said he could.”</p>
<p>“Fine. But, can I ask why are you using <em> that </em>set in particular?”</p>
<p>“It makes me feel like I have some sort of control in this fucked up situation. And they make me happy.” Bucky sighed, he knew the set he took Steve the night before was a bit much to hand someone the first time they sharpened something for you, but they were his favorites. Life sucked, so why shouldn’t he use them? </p>
<p>“Last question, why are you creeping out my dear friend Steve?” Bucky’s mouth fell open, surprised. There was no way Knife Steve was the same guy as Needs Toilet Paper Steve. </p>
<p>“That's <em> your </em> Steve?!” Natasha nodded in agreement, “There’s no way in hell. You make it sound like the dude was on death’s door every time you take him groceries! Have you <em> seen </em> him! He’s like six foot of pure American beefcake. He was <em> shirtless </em>Natasha. SHIRTLESS. How was I supposed to know it was the same Steve? Every other dude in this city is named Steve.”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t change the fact that you were indeed terrorizing the neighbors with your oversized serial killer mask.”</p>
<p>“What does that even mean? Everyone is wearing masks now. It’s kinda the rules.”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it James. I’m sure everyone can see past the creep factor to your beautiful heart.” She patted his cheek and walked down the hall. </p>
<p>Bucky knew from experience, it wasn’t a good thing when Natasha smiled like that. </p>
<p>—</p>
<p>“James, why did you take Steve the tuna sword?”</p>
<p>Bucky huffed out a sigh, “A chain of sushi restaurants dropped off a bunch of whole fish and large pieces they couldn’t get through with the stay home order. We are gonna give the medical staff a sushi party tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Right, and any particular reason you are wearing <em> that </em>to go pick it up?”</p>
<p>“It’s comfy.”</p>
<p>“Okay, well as long as it's not to impress Steve. He’s more of a blue guy anyway.”</p>
<p>If Bucky changed into the blue tank instead of the black, no one else needed to know. It did bring out his eyes after all. </p>
<p>— </p>
<p>“What’cha got there James?”</p>
<p>“A KNIFE!” Bucky waved the cheap excuse for a bread knife Natasha kept in her kitchen. He was making toast before he was due for his visit to Steve.</p>
<p>“No, I mean, what’s in the box.” Bucky sighed, of course she wouldn’t have been going with the Vine reference, she was too good for that. And liked prying into his life way too much. </p>
<p>“The statement still stands. It’s the steak knives from New Mexico. The turquoise handled ones.”</p>
<p>“Why do those need to be sharpened? It’s 12:30 at night, let the poor boy rest.”</p>
<p>“He said it was fine.” He had been going to see Steve for a while now and wanted to show off some of the fancier knives in the collection, hoping to impress the other man. </p>
<p>“Have you even <em> talked </em>to him? Sent him a text other than the knife ones?” </p>
<p>“God, ‘Tasha I’ll get there okay?” Bucky’s anxiety ran rampant when it came to texting Steve about anything other than the knives, no matter how much he wanted to. He’d get there when he got there. </p>
<p>—-</p>
<p>“Doctors like cheese right?” Bucky was staring at his slowly dwindling collection of unsharpened knives. He was getting down to the weirder and more specialized ones he had never planned on taking to Steve. Tonight, it was between the cheese forks and a weird butter spreader he had come across in Budapest. </p>
<p>Natasha slunk up behind him and examined the box he was holding, “Are you sure you’re not just making up excuses to go see Steve at this point? I mean, do cheese forks really need to be sharpened?”</p>
<p>Bucky didn’t even bother responding as he left to go drop off the forks. Seeing Steve was quickly becoming one of the few things that made him happy, and if he just wanted a reason to go gawk at Steve’s biceps, no one needed to know but him.</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>“James Buchanan Barnes, you and I need to have a chat,” Natasha threateningly purred in the way only she could, sliding onto the couch where Bucky had <em> not </em>been thinking about what he could take to Steve to have sharpened later that night. Or what other kinds of knife work they could get up to. “About our mutual friend Steve Rogers.”</p>
<p>“What about Steve?” Natasha glared and Bucky put his hands up in his defense, “<em> What </em>? I’ve been good!? I may want to rip that damn mask off his face and climb him like a tree, but I have behaved! I stayed ten feet away, didn’t breathe on him, the whole nine yards.”</p>
<p>“Oh, honey, <em>no</em>. I don’t know if that’s gonna be much of an issue anymore.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean? What happened?” Bucky panicked a bit. He knew Steve had asthma and a couple other chronic health issues. “Is Steve okay? I mean, he seemed flushed last night when he asked me what my name was, but I was in the good shorts. Honestly, I probably should have told him day one, but again, <em> he was shirtless.” </em> </p>
<p>Natasha gently patted his shoulder, “I want you to think real hard about what you said to him last night.”</p>
<p>Bucky thought back on it. It had been like almost any of the other times he had taken something to Steve, “I only told him my name and then he ran inside. Nothing <em> that </em>weird happened.”</p>
<p>“Really <em> Bucky?” </em>Holding her own mask over her face, muffling his name. She never called him Bucky, said it sounded too much like— </p>
<p>“<em> OH FUCK!” </em></p>
<p>“Maybe try a text message this time.” She patted his shoulder again as she went to get her phone. It was going to be an entertaining night.</p>
<hr/>
<p>— That Same Night in An Apartment Two Floors Away — </p>
<p>Steve knew better then to check his late night messages after deciding to drop Mr. Murder and his menagerie of knives. He possibly would have ignored them too, if his phone would have stopped chiming at some point. </p>
<p>Knives Out 10:43 PM: <em> So, it's just been brought to my attention that I need to apologize.  </em></p>
<p>Knives Out 10:44 PM: <em> Or at least explain, if you don't want my apology. </em></p>
<p>Knives Out 10:44 PM: <em> Which would be totally understandable.  </em></p>
<p>Knives Out 10:51 PM: <em> Let’s try this again. Hi, Steve. My name is Bucky. Which sounds an awful lot like Fucky on a normal day to day basis. Which sounds a lot like fuck you , even when you’re not wearing a custom plastic face mask, let alone when you are down a hallway wearing said mask. </em></p>
<p>Knives Out 10:53 PM: <em> So, yeah. Sorry I basically told you to fuck off last night. Truly, I wouldn’t wanna talk to me either.  </em></p>
<p>Steve stared at his phone, relief flooding his heart. He knew that it had been weighing on him, but he hadn’t realized just how much stress the situation had been giving him until it lifted. </p>
<p>Steve 11:02 PM: <em> Oh, thank god. I honestly thought you were going to knife me with one of your fancy ass knives for asking about your name. Probably the sword.  </em></p>
<p>Bucky 11:05 PM: <em> *GASP* I would never! That knife cost me an arm AND a leg. And I’m not even talking about the metal one.  </em></p>
<p>Steve 11:06 PM: <em> That doesn’t mean you can’t still stab me with it. I’ve been meeting you in a dark hallway at 1 in the morning for weeks to sharpen a shit load of knives  </em></p>
<p>After a few minutes without a reply, Steve ignored the guilty pang in his heart at pushing the guy too far by joking about it and tried to get back to work. In the end, he couldn’t stop dwelling on the fact that he hadn’t even actually accepted the guy’s apology. </p>
<p>Bucky 11:25 PM: <em> Soooooo Natasha has also just brought to my attention that I have been a real creeper and I've been weird enough that you’ve been calling me mystery knife guy? And something about murder mystery movies. Which, yeah that's fair. I really am sorry.  </em></p>
<p>Steve 11:26 PM: <em> Well, I had to call you something.  </em></p>
<p>Steve 11:26 PM: <em> Wait, you know Natasha?! Natasha Romanov? </em></p>
<p>Bucky 11:27 PM: <em> Yeah, she’s my roommate. She recommended I take my knives to you. I actually figured she had told you about me. Guess not  </em></p>
<p>Steve 11:29 PM: <em> What the absolute hell? Nat doesn’t have a roommate. I’ve been to her apartment. </em></p>
<p>Bucky 11:30 PM: <em> LOL I moved in the day before the stay home thing started. Ive been traveling and needed a place to stay until this blows over. She offered and here I am.  </em></p>
<p>Bucky 11:33 PM: <em> So, yeah, again. I’m so damn sorry.  </em></p>
<p>Steve 11:40 PM: <em> You have no idea what a relief it is to know what the hell is going on. I honestly was starting to think I was losing my mind. Apology accepted. It’s good to officially meet you, Bucky! </em></p>
<p>Steve opened a new message window and took a couple deep, calming breaths. They didn’t help much. Natasha was secretive and a tease on the best of days, but this too much, even for her. </p>
<p>Steve 11:41 PM: <em> Why the HELL didn’t you tell me the knife guy was your ROOMMATE?!!!???! You don’t even have a roommate! I know, I’ve been to your apartment.  </em></p>
<p>Steve 11:41 PM:<em> I look like such an ass!  </em></p>
<p>Natasha 11:42 PM: <em> Didn’t I mention it? He moved in a few weeks ago.  </em></p>
<p>Steve 11:42 PM: <em> Natasha Romanov, you know damn well you didn’t. I have the texts to prove it! You could have said something at any point over the past three weeks when I was bitching about him. You knew exactly who he was the entire time!!! </em></p>
<p>Natasha 11:43 PM: <em> Well, I need to stay busy somehow. I’m soooo bored Steven.  </em></p>
<p>Steve 11:41 PM: <em> My life isn’t your play thing Nat! I’ve been freaking out for THREE WEEKS. Can’t you just torture Clint? Isn’t that why you started dating your landlord? So you could torture him over rent prices?  </em></p>
<p>Natasha 11:45 PM:<em> He buys me things. And you know he got stuck out at the farm when he was helping Laura and the kids get settled there for the quarantine. He’s being tortured enough having to spend that much time with his ex-wife. Plus it’s more fun watching you two idiots knife dance around each other.  </em></p>
<p>Steve 11:47 PM: <em> Rude! No more free knife sharpening for you! </em></p>
<p>Natasha 11:49 PM: <em> Oh, I think Bucky will give you plenty of things to sharpen. </em></p>
<p>Steve 11:50 PM: <em> God, Nat, why are you like this? </em></p>
<p>Natasha never responded and Steve attempted to get back to work for the third time that night. It didn’t work. Instead he stared at his monitor, wondering what even was his life. </p>
<p>Bucky 12:05 AM: <em> Um, so I hate to ask after all of that, but, um, think I could bring you one right now? </em></p>
<p>Bucky 12:06 AM:<em> God, I’m an ass. I wouldn’t ask, but I actually need this one done for work tomorrow.  </em></p>
<p>Steve wasn’t going to lie, the idea of seeing Bucky after that roller coaster was all at once intimidating and exhilarating. Now that he knew Nat knew Bucky, he felt a lot better about the entire situation and less like he was going to be murdered, but he also felt bad for judging Bucky before actually getting to know him. </p>
<p>Sighing, Steve replied, <em> Yeah, sure. Come on over.  </em></p>
<p>Almost immediately the familiar knock was at the door. </p>
<p>Steve looked down at his doorstep where the knives typically got left, but there was nothing there. </p>
<p>“Um, Steve, ” Steve jumped, as usual. Bucky was about ten feet down the hall, but instead of the thick black mask, his face was covered with some kind of fabric wrap. His voice was so much <em> softer </em> without the mask than Steve could ever have imagined <em> . </em>“Sorry, I, uh, I wanted to apologize in person. I know this has to be against every rule of social distancing, but I felt like you deserved a real apology in person. From what ‘Tasha said, it sounds like I was really being a creepy asshole.”</p>
<p>Steve smiled, even though Bucky probably wouldn’t be able to tell. “Bucky, it’s really okay. Things happen. Mostly because Natasha decides to keep things to herself.”</p>
<p>Bucky laughed. It was probably because he is a social interaction starved idiot, but it was one of the most beautiful sounds Steve had ever heard and he wanted nothing more than to wrap Bucky in his arms, to show him just how fine it was. Going without real human contact for over a month could do that to a person.</p>
<p>“Yeah, she really is terrible. I’ve known her for the better part of twenty years and it never ceases to surprise me the shit she will pull. This though, this is on a whole new level even for her.” </p>
<p>“No kidding, but hey, I got to meet you and sharpen some pretty kick ass knives because of it?” Steve responded. </p>
<p>“That is a perk,” Steve was pretty sure Bucky winked as he chuckled again, “The knives are pretty kick ass if I do say so myself. Oh! I really did bring a knife for you to sharpen. It's next to the door.”</p>
<p>Steve turned to look where Bucky pointed, where a large black case leaned against the baseboard of the wall. It was much heavier than it looked. </p>
<p>“Oh, <em> god </em>, what is it this time? This thing weighs a ton. Actually, tell me what it is, so I don’t have to spend an hour on Google.”</p>
<p>“Wait. You’ve been <em> Googling </em>them? I straight up thought you knew what they were. Everything you’ve sharpened has been practically perfect. Even my weirdest ones. I thought you were some sort of pro. Why didn’t you just text me?”</p>
<p>“I was about 75% sure you were a murderer, or an assassin, or just some really weird knife guy, and I really didn’t want to disappoint someone who would kill me with a knife that cost more than my motorcycle.”</p>
<p>Steve could see Bucky hunch over a bit, pulling into himself, “<em> Shit </em> , <em> ” </em> He whispered, “Steve I am so sorry that I made you feel like that. So, this one is mostly normal? It’s a meat cleaver, called a mezzaluna.”</p>
<p>“Just a type of meat cleaver he says, like the last cleaver he brought didn’t have an actual antler for the handle.” </p>
<p>“Hey, in my defense that was not a cleaver. It was—”</p>
<p>“A Scimitar style steak knife. I <em> know!  </em> That one took almost forty-five minutes to figure out.” Steve grinned again when Bucky huffed a laugh.</p>
<p>“Oh <em> god, </em> I’m so sorry.  Okay,” Bucky sighed, “In the name of social distancing, I’m gonna leave you to it. I don’t have to go in super early tomorrow, so can I pick it up around 10:00?”</p>
<p>“No problem, I have an update meeting right at 10:00, but I’ll leave it out here for you. Just knock so I know you got it.”</p>
<p>“Thank you so much!”</p>
<p>“Anytime,” Steve said as he slipped back inside, ready to take on the next knife challenge. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all for the comments and kudos! And thanks to Chibiobiwan for the beta!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>— Earlier That Same Night In An Apartment Two Floors Away — </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey ‘Tasha, do you know why Steve would think I was going to stab him with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>maguro</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gave Bucky a smirk, “Oh, he thinks you’re creepy. Like murderer status creepy. Keeps changing your contact info in his phone to different murder mystery movie references. Currently, I think you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knives Out.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>why?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe it has something to do with your creepy ass mask and the fact you never really </span>
  <em>
    <span>talked</span>
  </em>
  <span> to him? Sent him a thank you text? Or really anything besides ‘sharpen knife now’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky went quiet, thinking about every time he had gone to see Steve. Throughout all fifteen some odd  times he had his knives sharpened, never once had he actually properly said thanks or even really said more than five words at a time. The mask made it hard to talk with how tight it was on his face. They had come to rely on hand signals a lot of the time  at work because of it.  He also hadn’t sent any of the “Hi! I think you’re hot, we should hangout after this virus shit is over” texts he had planned to, chickening out at the last minute each time. Fucking anxiety. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He whispered, buring his face in his hands, “Natasha, I really screwed this up didn’t I? One of the hottest guys I’ve ever met, and I make him think I’m some creepy knife dude.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, not just a creepy knife dude. He’s half convinced you’re gonna murder him if he messes up one of your knives. He messages Sam and I about it every time you stop by.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky’s only answer was a soft, “Oh, shit.” and he started typing again. Natasha, feeling that her job was done, left to go bother Clint. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later, Natasha heard drawers being slammed and her stuff being shuffled, so came to investigate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky was frantically digging through the living room, leaving a trail of mess in his wake, “‘Tasha! Where did you put the fabric face shields? I need one for something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They should be in the junk drawer. If you’re going to the store, look for toilet paper would you? Steve needs some.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not going to the store.” He ripped open the drawer she indicated and pulled on the soft fabric mask. It didn’t have the same protection, but as long as he stayed ten feet back, it wouldn’t be an issue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ I’ll be back soon,” He stopped and grabbed the mezzaluna case from his collection, sending a couple texts as he hurried to the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, say hi to Steve for me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky just grunted, trying to hide his grin. If Bucky knew anything, it was that the best way to apologize was with breakfast food. And by damn, Steve Rogers was going to get the best damn apology Bucky could muster in a city wide shut down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>— Steve— </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once he got the heavy knife case open, Steve couldn’t stop laughing. Inside was a blade about three inches wide that curved into a half moon, set between two golden hued wood handles. The diameter of the semicircle was about nine inches, making the whole thing about a foot long. It was completely ridiculous. Snapping a picture, he sent a text off to Bucky before getting started on cleaning the blade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:30 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>THIS IS NOT A CLEAVER!!!! I knew you were lying!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 12:33 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Technically it is… just a rounded one. It rocks….literally </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:35 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>This thing is absurd.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he set up his gear, Steve found himself again wondering about the knives and where they came from.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:43 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Actually, you never told me, and I am still not 100% sold on you not being a murderer, especially now that I know you’re friends with Nat...What the hell do you do for a living that requires you to own this thing?!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 12:47 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I choose to own an amazing mezzaluna, job or no job, thank you very much</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:49 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Still doesn’t answer my question...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 12:50 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>You sure you want to know? Maybe that mystery is the only reason you let me keep bringing you knives. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:51 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whatever, we both know its cuz of your pretty eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 12:53 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>AWWW! You think  I’m pretty? Even with the creeptastic mask? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 12:54 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Truthfully, in a way I’m between jobs until after this whole mess is over and in another way I work too much. I usually work as a private chef for wealthy idiots that I can convince parsley is the finest garnish to ever garnish. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:57 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>They must be keeping you pretty busy with the hours you keep. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 1:01 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span> LOL Yeah, that’s not what I’m doing anymore with the shut down. 90% of my life  is actually spent heading a volunteer team that provides dinners to the doctors and healthcare workers working in the COVID wards. Thus the big, beefy masks I had a friend make. They make them out of SCUBA gear, so they look really intense. And make it really hard to talk, as you well know. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve felt the familiar stab of guilt in his chest at judging Bucky so quickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 1:09 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>That's actually really neat. So what do you need all of the specialty knives for?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 1:12 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Most of the food is being donated and some of it can be pretty wild. The sword, as you call it, was because a couple sushi places donated whole tuna and we had to break them down. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They fell into an easy rhythm, and the more Steve chatted with Bucky, the worse he felt about ever thinking that the man was a crazy murderer. Bucky spent most of his time with the volunteer work, working with the hardest hit hospitals in the City. Before coming back to New York to stay with Natasha, he had been traveling using the funds from his Stark Industries “guinea pig” check, as he called it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This Bucky was like an entirely different person then the one Steve had assumed was behind the mask, lighthearted and funny, and very, very chatty. Steve found himself smiling more at his phone in the hour it took him to sharpen the mezzaluna then he had in weeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 2:18 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, well, I’ve finished your mezzaluna from hell. I’ll make sure it’s outside around 10. Sound good?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 2:20 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Actually</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>would you be okay if I just came and grabbed it? Save you the hassle before your meeting?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 2:22 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah sure, come on down. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve waited in the doorway, watching the knife he had placed down the hall, as had become his routine, except this time he was excited to actually see Bucky, and not just for his tight pants. It was refreshing to not have the nagging feeling that he would be shanked for damaging one of the knives looming over his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Steve!” Bucky waved as he came down the hall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! I hope I did it right. I still had to spend some quality time on YouTube to make sure I got the curve just right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky grabbed the bag, “I’m sure it’s perfect, just like the rest of them. You really do a great job. So, I actually have kinda a big question for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve stuttered a bit, taken back, “Oh? And what would that be?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well I guess it’s actually got a couple parts… one, are you allergic to anything? Food wise I mean. Or is there anything you really dislike?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, well, that is a big question.” Steve smiled, “Technically I’m not supposed to eat walnuts and there’s a couple food colorings I should avoid. But, other than that, not really, no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Awesome, part two, sweet or savory?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, both? I just kinda like food as a general rule.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good answer,” Steve could almost see the smile in Bucky’s eyes. It made his heart flutter, “Okay, last part, what time do you start work in the morning?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve hesitated, wondering where this was all going, “Um, my first meeting is at 10:00, so 9:55, if I’m being honest. I do have a video chat group workout from 8:00 - 9:00 though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, dude, do you ever sleep?” Steve just kind of shrugged, he had never been that good at sleeping eight hours and it had just gotten worse with the stay at home order. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like you’re one to talk. You’ve asked me about knives at almost every hour of the day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky laughed and waved his hands in defeat, “Fair enough, fair enough. Okay, so, don’t eat post workout, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, okay?” Steve was a bit confused, he had tried to be clear that the knife thing was free,“You know you don’t owe me anything for the knives right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, I know. You’ve mentioned it. Think of it as an apology breakfast.” Bucky held up his hands again, waving the case around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay?” Steve was torn, he didn’t want to refuse the kind offer, but there was a pandemic going after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweet! I’ll drop it off around 9:15,” Bucky did his normal little wave as he headed back to the elevator, “Oh! Just as an FYI,  I’m totally food safety certified and trained on how to make sure food isn’t contaminated with this damn virus, so actually eat what I bring ya, ‘kay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” Steve squeaked out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Night, Stevie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Steve’s heart had been fluttering before, it sure was pounding now. How had he ever thought this absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>dork</span>
  </em>
  <span> was some kind of murderer? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rogers, dude, I swear, if I see you check your watch one more time during this workout, I’m gonna come down there and rip it off your damn arm and beat you with it myself, quarantine or nor quarantine, got it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry Sam,” Steve winced as he apologized. He hadn’t slept well, dwelling on everything that had happened in the past twelve hours. Steve felt like his entire world had been turned upside down and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On one hand, he knew next to nothing about Bucky, Natasha hasn’t been exactly forthcoming with any additional details after their chat the night before, and his only real interactions with him were strange to say the least. One day, he was all </span>
  <em>
    <span>Silence of the Lamb</span>
  </em>
  <span>s, and then suddenly, the next, he was, well whatever this was. Flirty? Dorky?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now, everything was catching up with him during his workout with Sam and Riley. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this over creepy knife guy again?” Riley asked, poking his head around the camera.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course it is,” Sam grumbled. He was less than impressed with Bucky’s apology and thought Steve should have told Bucky to shove his knife collection where the sun doesn't shine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve, if you’re not feeling great, maybe you should call it quits for today? Do a cool down and try again tomorrow?” At least Riley was trying to be nice and Steve was about to agree when Sam snorted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never thought I would see the day Steve Rogers didn’t workout because he felt a bit </span>
  <em>
    <span>tired</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Whatever happened to Mr.‘I can do this all day,’ hum?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve prickeled at the challenge, “You know what Riley, thanks for the offer but I think I can make it through.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure about that Steve? Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” Steve could see Sam’s grin even though the monitor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just try and keep up, bird boy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>— Bucky —</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was 8:15 AM and there was no way in hell </span>
  <em>
    <span>waffles </span>
  </em>
  <span>were going to get the best of Bucky Barnes, no matter how shitty Natasha’s waffle maker was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Smells good in here James. Whatcha’ making me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You? Absolutely nothing. Steve on the other hand is getting apology waffles and candied bacon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Candied bacon, you say?” Bucky knew it was one of her favorite splurge treats and knew if he played his cards right, she would give him the information he desperately needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Candied bacon is for friends that help each other and don’t let the downstairs Adonis think that their roommate is a phycopath for three weeks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had part of this discussion the night before when Bucky had gotten back from Steve’s. To say he was angry would be an understatement, he felt hurt and betrayed, and confused why she would put them through the wringer like that.  Her response was a shrug and a comment about it being worth it to see him happy as she walked away. Bucky was reluctant to really bring it back up in the morning, he had more pressing needs. Like a good waffle maker and information.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I made it up to you?” She eyed the bacon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you thinking?” Bucky asked, hoping she would offer information as per usual. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll tell you something about Steve.” Boom, there it was. </span>
</p>
<p><span>Bucky pretended to think it over,“I suppose I can share.</span> <span>But I get to pick what you tell me.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>She snagged the nearest piece, “What do you wanna know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>How does Steve like his coffee?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She grinned, looking far too pleased for Bucky’s liking. Maybe trying to outwit Natasha wasn’t the best idea this early in the morning. “I can do that. However, that bit of info is enough of an apology for both of you, got it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, just tell me what it is.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It really was going to be the best apology breakfast he had ever crafted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>— Steve — </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>About an hour later, Steve found himself showered and anxiously pacing once again. He didn’t know what was making him so nervous about all of this. It’s not like it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>date. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Unless— </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shook his head, it couldn’t be a date. He had practically accused the guy of being a murderer and Bucky probably just felt bad about the misunderstanding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 9:16 AM:</span>
  <em>
    <span> Now good? I wanna make sure its still warm when you get it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 9:17 AM:</span>
  <em>
    <span> Now would be great :) </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 9:20 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Perfect! OMW</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sat awkwardly perched on his couch, feeling like a teenager waiting for their prom date to show as he waited for the knock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His phone buzzed instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 9:27 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Its at your door! I didnt wanna knock in case you were working already. Enjoy!!!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve could smell bacon before he could even get the door open. There was a paper bag on his doorstep, overflowing with takeout boxes, and what looked like a thermos of some kind. Steve looked around, disappointed to find that Bucky had already made it into the elevator. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bag was even heavier than it looked, and when he started unpacking it Steve noticed Bucky had written little notes on each one, indicating what it was and if there were any additional instructions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The largest box was labeled “Save Me for Later.” So, Steve being Steve, opened it right away. Inside he found a dozen massive chocolate chip cookies, still slightly warm and gooey. Tempted to just dig right in, he forced himself to put them to the side in favor of opening the other boxes. By the time he had all of the containers open, his kitchen counter was covered in a massive array of breakfast foods. There was perfectly fried bacon and sausage, cheesy eggs topped with chives and some sort of white sauce, as well as a couple more ‘for later’ boxes, filled with various snacks and treats. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the most impressive was the massive stack of waffles, perfectly fluffy and crispy edged, surrounded with a </span>
  <span>smorgasbord </span>
  <span>of different toppings, including a golden sauce labeled ‘buttermilk syrup,’ which smelled like buttery caramel. Steve was overwhelmed by it all. It must have taken Bucky all night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 9:42 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bucky, this is too much! How am I supposed to eat all this and be able to work all day? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 9:45 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come on Steve, thats what second breakfast is for - have the waffles now and the eggs later </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 9:49 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m gonna be as round as a Hobbit if I eat all of this </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 9:50 AM:</span>
  <em>
    <span> With that body? I doubt it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 9:51 AM:</span>
  <em>
    <span> Also, Natasha told me how you like your coffee — she said that should be enough of an apology. Hope I did it right :) </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve had completely forgotten about the thermos. He wasn’t super particular about his coffee, but there were definitely things he prefered. Specifically, he had a soft spot for cinnamon coffee, not like what you could get at Starbucks, with the super sweet sugar syrup they dumped in. It was a simple enough thing, just a good pour over coffee with fresh beans that had been ground with a small stick of toasted real cinnamon. It was something his mom would make almost every day before going into the hospital, but he rarely took time to make for himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And if the smell was anything to go by, Bucky had absolutely nailed it. It reminded him of home and Steve’s face split into a grin as he carted the thermos and a plate piled high with butter and syrup smothered waffles and bacon to his computer for his meeting. Even having to listen to Tony Stark’s latest monologue of a monthly update meeting couldn’t distract from just how good the food was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he tried to pay attention to the meeting, Steve decided he needed to actually talk to Natasha. While dwelling on everything the night before while trying to sleep, he had realized that all of her texts had been somewhat encouraging him to keep contacting Bucky, or were positive about their interactions, in her own way, usually by being a bit suggestive. She was plotting something and he wanted to know what it was.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 10:32 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Telling him I like cinnamon coffee doesn’t make up for the fact you let me think he was going to kill me for 3 weeks </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha 10:39 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, the coffee wasn’t the apology. At least my apology to you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 10: 41 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Care to share what the apology was then?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha 10:44 AM:</span>
  <em>
    <span> Having a cute boy show up at your door with waffles and bacon. Candied bacon I might add. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 10:46 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>He only did that cuz he felt bad for creeping me out. Which could have been avoided if YOU hadn’t decided to keep secrets.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha 10:52 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>My point exactly :) </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 11:00 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nat, I love you. I really do. But WHAT THE HELL? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha 11:30 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything I’ve done, I’ve done out of love, Steve.  I’ve got work. TTYL </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s head hurt as he cleaned up his workstation and took his plates to the sink. Why couldn’t she just say what she meant instead of being cryptic? He sucked in a deep breath and got ready for his next round of meetings, vowing to ask her about it again.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After eating the morning’s leftovers for lunch, Steve decided that thanking Bucky would be more productive than trying to get Natasha to talk to him anymore that morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 12:05 PM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I take it back, I’m totally willing to turn into a Hobbit over second breakfast eggs. And the coffee was practically perfect. Thank you :)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 12:30 PM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Told ya second breakfast was where it’s at. Don’t forget about the cookies I made for afternoon tea </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve hadn’t forgotten the cookies, as the half empty box next to his work station could attest. His waistline could only hope that this was a one time thing. His heart and stomach, maybe not so much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next day, when Bucky sent Steve a full faced selfie was the day that Steve was pretty sure he died. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 2:18 PM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>So, I was talking to Tasha and realized that you’ve probably never seen my full face. So, here’s my ugly mug. Image Attached.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve had to take a few minutes to compose himself. If half of Bucky’s face had been good, the entire thing was pornographic. Steve’s dick sure seemed to think it was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 2:24 PM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dear lord. You should keep the mask on. Protect the eyes of the innocent</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 2:31 PM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ouch Steve, just for that maybe I will </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 2:35 PM:</span>
  <em>
    <span> Just saying, my eyes arn’t innocent ;)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 2:40 PM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>That was bad even by your standards punk</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 2:44 PM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Um, so. I’ve actually never seen your face either… </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve hadn’t even considered that. He had kind of figured Natasha would have had some pictures of him hanging around. He considered his options, flipping through some selfies he had sitting on his phone. In the end, he opted to take a new one, hoping to change things up a bit.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 2:55 PM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Figured you’d seen enough of me when I forgot to put my shirt back on the night we met. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 3:01 PM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re killin me here. Just send me a selfie damn it. I know you have at least 500 on that phone of yours. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 3:07 PM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>As you wish ;) Image Attached. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 3:11 PM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well fuck </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay guys, this is the chapter where the mention of torture tag comes into play. If you need to skip it, I would recommend you stop reading at “Bucky sniffled…” and pick back up at “Steve sniffled…” (almost like I planned it...I didn’t). There is a summary at the end. </p>
<p>Thanks again to my beta, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibiobiwan/">Chibiobiwan</a>.</p>
<p>And a HUGE thank you to all those who have commented and left kudos!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next week passed in a blur of food and Steve soon discovered that the treats and selfies were definitely not just a one time thing. </p>
<p>The knives didn’t stop either. Even after the massive quantities Steve had sharpened, Bucky still had even more (even if Steve was pretty sure the cheap bread knife was one of Natasha’s). But instead of just knives being dropped off, they would often be accompanied by some sort of snack or treat. It was bad enough that sometimes Steve wondered if Bucky was hell bent on putting him into some sort of coma through sugar and steel. </p>
<p>Even better than the food was Bucky’s company, albeit as digital as it was. They found themselves constantly texting and spending just a little bit too long in the hallway after their increasingly common knife exchanges. It had gotten to the point that one of the neighbors had even opened their door to shush them at 3:00 AM. </p>
<p>They started spending hours on the phone together. Bucky would drop off a knife or other sharp object, and then they would sit on the phone together while Steve sharpened or while Bucky cooked up his latest idea. </p>
<p>Some of Steve’s favorite moments were Bucky’s weird stories about old jobs or his time in the Army. Bucky didn't talk about it much, only that it’s what gave him his “opportunity to get a sweet robot arm.” Steve thought it was odd, but didn’t want to pry. </p>
<p>Steve 11:58 PM: <em> Do you have any ceramic knives? I kinda wanna try sharpening one. </em></p>
<p>Bucky 12:10 AM: <em> No, I only know two things about them. Well three things. </em> </p>
<p>Bucky 12:11 AM: <em> 1. they can cut </em></p>
<p>Bucky 12:11 AM:<em> 2. they can get through metal detectors at night clubs </em></p>
<p>Bucky 12:12 AM: <em> 3. they shatter if you breathe on them too hard. </em></p>
<p>Steve 12:15 AM: <em> Do I want to know why you know 2 &amp; 3? </em></p>
<p>Bucky 12:22 AM:<em> Just something a buddy of mine once said. Wade is a weird dude, but could sure make a mean chimichanga. Same guy I watched get stabbed, duct tape the wound shut, and then work another eight hours.  </em></p>
<p>Steve 12:30 AM: <em> ...there just isn't any response to that </em></p>
<p>Bucky 12:40 AM: <em> I mean, thats fair </em></p>
<p>The day after Steve asked about the ceramic knife, Bucky was oddly quiet until late that night. Steve had gotten so used to the almost constant contact, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. </p>
<p>Bucky 12:45 AM: <em> Yo Steve! What cuts better, a sharp knife or cheap toilet paper? </em></p>
<p>Steve 12:47 AM: <em> What? The knife, obviously. </em></p>
<p>Bucky 12:48 AM: <em> WRONG! You’ve obviously never used Army issue toilet paper. Now open your damn door.  </em></p>
<p>Steve did open his damn door, only to be greeted with a Costco sized pack of Charmin Ultra.</p>
<p>“SURPRISE! Happy six week anniversary of me being a creeper for the first time!” Bucky cheerfully yelled down the hall. </p>
<p>“Where the hell did you even find this?!” Steve was shocked, he had been trying to get even a small pack for weeks. </p>
<p>“Oh, I have my ways. Just need to know the right people is all.”</p>
<p>“Just as long as you didn’t use any of the knives I’ve sharpened to convince those people.”</p>
<p>“I only use my <em> extra </em>special set of knives for that kind of work, Steve. You should know that by now.”</p>
<p>“Oh, that just fills me with confidence that I am not going to be an accessory to murder.”</p>
<p>“Ouch,” Bucky clutched his chest in mock pain, “I thought we had moved past the whole murderer thing. I made you apology waffles.”</p>
<p>“Apology waffles, or <em> distraction </em>waffles?.” Steve narrowed his eyes, trying to look suspicious even with fabric covering half his face.</p>
<p>“Waffles are waffles, Stevie. And I brought you toilet paper.”  </p>
<p>Steve beamed, clutching the toilet paper close, “Thank you, Bucky. Really. My ass appreciates it especially.”</p>
<p>“Anything for that ass, doll,” And, like the goofball he is, Bucky actually pulled finger guns at Steve as he got back into the elevator. </p>
<p>After that, Steve found himself telling Bucky everything, from the tiny dog he’d been watching out of the window as it tried to threaten a Brooklyn rat twice its size, to his mom, and the disease that slowly stole her life and to his own journey from scrawny asthmatic to buff asthmatic. How he had been an art major without a path that switched to social media marketing as a joke when Sam made fun of him, asking if he wanted to be some kind of Instagram photography influencer, and then it stuck. </p>
<p>Bucky would tell Steve about the places he's been and the people he met while forging his knife collection, about the people he’s met on the front line and on kitchen lines, and how he learned to cook. His mom, Winnie, had made sure Bucky could fend for himself, teaching him basic knife skills and their family recipes. About how he had joined the Army to pay for college and had been thrown into being a Culinary Specialist when he complained about the gravy being from a pouch. From there, he worked his way through the ranks and eventually had the equivalent of a culinary degree. They tended to avoid any other parts of  Bucky’s service.</p>
<p>Then there were the increasingly rare days that Steve didn’t hear from Bucky at all. Steve hated those days, knowing that it meant Bucky was suffering and overworked, and there wasn’t anything he could do to help. He wanted nothing more in the world than to just wrap Bucky in his arms and let him rest. Steve knew that working in the hospitals, surrounded by death and sorrow, was taking a real toll on Bucky, especially now that the city was moving into the third month of the pandemic. Those were the days when Steve wondered if Bucky slept at all. </p>
<p>Steve was at a loss. Bucky gave so much of himself and so much to Steve and Steve, well Steve wasn’t sure he had anything to offer Bucky besides the continued knife sharpening.</p>
<p>— Bucky— </p>
<p>Once he knew Steve would let Bucky feed him, he made sure to always bring treats and goodies to their exchanges. Bucky had always been happiest when someone liked what he had made for them, and watching Steve’s blue eyes light up in excitement made Bucky’s day.</p>
<p>It helped that Steve <em> listened </em>to him, no matter how big or small something was, or even if it was 3:00 in the morning and their neighbors were shushing them.</p>
<p>Bucky even found himself telling Steve stories from his time in the Army. He didn’t even talk to Natasha about most of those. </p>
<p>Before he knew it, it had been six weeks of visiting Steve and Bucky knew that benchmark deserved something special. </p>
<p>“James, where the hell did you find this? Wait, you didn’t actually kill anyone over this did you?” Natasha held up the gigantic pack of Charmin. </p>
<p>“Ha ha,” Bucky fake laughed, “No, I won it off Tony.”</p>
<p>“You won a Costco pack of Charmin off of <em> the </em>Tony Stark?” She looked disbelieving. </p>
<p>“Yeah, he came down to the kitchen today to make sure we had everything we needed and started teasing me about it being his arm that let me do my job.”</p>
<p>She grimaced, “You didn’t put up with that right?”</p>
<p>“Hell no. I told him if I could dice an onion with the arm dead like a non-Stark prosthetic in less than sixty seconds he owed me a pack of toilet paper. If I couldn’t, I would pose for the next issue of his charity magazine like he wants.”</p>
<p>“And how fast were you?”</p>
<p>“Forty-five seconds. Not a record by any means, but it got the job done. It must have impressed him though, one of his interns dropped this off an hour later. Honestly, I was expecting a four pack at most.”</p>
<p>When Bucky dropped it off later that night, Steve’s response made the entire day worth while. </p>
<p>— </p>
<p>“Whatcha smiling about there, RoboChef?”</p>
<p>Bucky jumped, not expecting Tony Stark to just pop up in his kitchen at 9:00 in the morning. </p>
<p>“Uh….”</p>
<p>“Is it your boyfriend? Let me see!” </p>
<p>Bucky could feel his face heat as he hesitated, not sure of how to answer, “Um, not my boyfriend?”</p>
<p>“Oh, ho, but you want him to be,” For being so egotistical, Tony sure was perceptive. Bucky sighed, knowing that lying about it would make Tony snoop. And possibly hack into his phone. Again. </p>
<p>“Yes? If that’s what he wants?” He was pretty sure they were heading that way, but it was difficult with the limitations given them by the quarantine. </p>
<p>“Hand it over. I wanna see,” Tony made grabby hands at Bucky’s phone. </p>
<p>Bucky hurried and pulled up a selfie he was pretty sure Steve wouldn’t mind his boss seeing and slid the phone across the table,“You see, the thing is, —”</p>
<p>“Hold up! I know this guy. He worked with me on something...”</p>
<p>“Yeah...” Bucky’s blush deepened. </p>
<p>“Got it! This is Steve from Marketing - was hired to help with the prosthetic trials volunteer campaign. Huh, weird. And random. But I like it,” Tony’s phone rang, “Gotta answer this. Stop sighing over your boy toy and get to work, the doctors and nurses can’t feed themselves, ya know!”</p>
<p>Bucky sighed as Tony bolted out the door. He hated the days he couldn’t just spend the whole day messaging Steve. He knew his job is important and there are a lot of people counting on him, but he really just wanted to not have to try so hard for a while. </p>
<p>Just talking to Steve had made it a lot easier to bear, and everyday Bucky finds himself more and more grateful that Steve was so willing to just <em> listen. </em> </p>
<p>No one had ever really done that for Bucky after Afghanistan. His mom and sisters would try, but it was just too much. They would try to fix it, to <em> fix him. </em>He knew that their advice came from their love, but sometimes he just needed to talk.  He loved them dearly and knew they loved him, but sometimes there was just too much of a gap to bridge. </p>
<p>Steve never tried to push or to actually understand. He just listened, never trying to talk over him, or try to fix him, but just let Bucky <em> talk </em>. </p>
<p>After work that night, Bucky had only stolen a tiny bit of Natasha’s not so secret vodka stash and was thirty videos deep in a YouTube spiral when he started watching a guy make a legitimate knife made from boiled toilet paper. It was at that moment Bucky realized he was maybe a bit more than just a little in love with Steve Rogers. </p>
<p>Before he could let himself think that far, Bucky knew that Steve deserved to know just how broken he really was, and that Bucky owed it to himself to know if they could bridge the gap that even his family couldn’t.  </p>
<p>Talking about how he was feeling, or what he had been through had never come naturally to Bucky, especially after his arm. Sure, he discussed it with his shrink, but that was because he knew she could get him back on his feet and get him back in a kitchen where he wanted to be.</p>
<p>So naturally, Bucky was plastered by the time he got up the courage to make the call.  </p>
<p>— Steve— </p>
<p>Bucky 1:13 AM: <em> Hey Steve? You awake? </em></p>
<p>Steve 1:16 AM: <em> Yeah, mostly </em></p>
<p>Bucky 1:17 AM: <em> Can I call you? I just, I kinda just need to hear your voice right now </em></p>
<p>Steve 1:18 AM: <em> Of course  </em></p>
<p>Steve only let his phone ring once before answering, “Hey, Bucky.”</p>
<p>“Stevie! <em> God </em>, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Behind the cheer, Steve could hear the exhaustion radiating from his voice, laced with not a small amount of alcohol, “I was thinking about you today.”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I was watching YouTube and this guy in Japan made a toilet paper knife.”</p>
<p>“A toilet paper knife? That sounds moist. And floppy.”</p>
<p>Bucky giggled, “Yeah, he like, boiled it and added a bunch of chemical shit and then dehydrated it. And then took this <em> plank </em> of hardened toilet paper and fucking made a knife out of it. And then he sliced a tomato with it. It was <em> disgusting </em>.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that's kinda gross. And it didn’t fall apart?”</p>
<p>“Nope, he washed it and everything. No thank you I say, I’ll stick with my metal ones. But, more importantly, it made me think of us, all toilet paper and knives, ya know?” Bucky sighed.</p>
<p>Steve wasn’t sure what was meant by that, but before he could ask Bucky continued, “Hey Stevie?”</p>
<p>“Yeah Buck?”</p>
<p>“You’ve never asked me where all the knives came from.”</p>
<p>“Well, no. I figured you would tell me when you wanted to. <em> If </em>you wanted to.” Steve had his theories, usually inheritance money or mass amounts of credit card debt were involved. </p>
<p>“You should ask me about them. If you want to, I mean.”</p>
<p>“Okay, I’ll bite. Where did your absolute <em> horde </em>of batshit crazy knives come from, Buck?”</p>
<p>“I <em> made </em> them. All of them,” He giggled again, “Well, <em> almost </em>all of them.” </p>
<p>That was not the answer Steve was expecting, “You <em> made </em>them? Like with your own two hands?”</p>
<p>“Yep. Well, with one of my own hands. Turns out, Stark Tech arms are good for a lot of things, including being heat resistant up to like 5,000 degrees. You think I’m shitting you, but I’m not. He fucking used Wakandan vibrainum. Vibranium! Because he fucking could. Anyways, I took that fat ass check he gave me and learned how to make <em> knives. </em> Cuz <em> I </em> could. Just because I wanted to. All over the world Steve. Hell, I made the fucking <em> cheese forks </em>in France.”</p>
<p>“And what about that cheap ass bread knife you brought me last week? Where did you learn to make that elegant piece of shit.”</p>
<p>Bucky cackled, “We both know that was Natasha’s. I ran out of ideas and wanted to see you.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad you did, Buck. I liked seeing you.”</p>
<p>Steve could hear the grin in Bucky’s voice, “Can I tell you a secret, Steve? About what I’m thankful for? It’s kinda bad.”</p>
<p>“What ‘cha thankful for?”</p>
<p>“This fucking virus. You know why?”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“Cuz I got to meet <em> you, </em> ya damn punk. After, after my arm, and then the Stark testing, and everything else that’s happened, I didn’t want to be <em> here </em>anymore. I wasn’t ever gonna come back, was gonna just keep traveling and mailing ‘Tasha my weird ass knives to put in her closet,” He inhaled like he was trying to work himself up for something. </p>
<p>“And then the pandemic hit, and ‘Tasha was like, ‘come stay with me and your weird knives you keep sending me. They miss you.’ And then you know what happened next?” Bucky sighed again.</p>
<p>“What happened next, Buck?” </p>
<p>“And then, Tony <em> fucking </em> Stark, the legend himself, <em> called </em> me and asked me to come back to run the damn hospital meal program he wanted to start up. To help the people that helped me. Apparently he remembered me from the prosthetic program. <em> Me </em>of all people. And what do you say to the man who made you a new arm? A fucking, neruo-integrated robot arm at that! No?” </p>
<p>Bucky forced out a harsh laugh, “Well I was gonna! I was gonna tell him he could shove his self serving save the city act. And then for some reason, I actually said <em>yes. </em>Just blurted it right out, agreeing to come back here to be alone again, instead of hiding in some mountain cabin, where I could choose the type loneliness I was being forced to live with, away from all of this shit. I have no clue why. It just happened. Now, here I am. Living with a childhood friend and cooking for a bunch of overworked, miserable doctors. Damn Steve, you should see what he's paying me to deal with it. Almost makes it worthwhile.  Do you know what the worst part is?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“I fucking <em> love </em> it. And now, now I don’t want to leave again. I haven’t felt this at home, this happy, since before my damn arm got cut off in Afghanistan. Like I actually belong somewhere and am actually doing something <em> good </em>for once,” Bucky went quiet again and Steve just let him breathe, fighting every instinct he had to run to Natasha’s apartment and hold Bucky, to never let him go. It was only two damn floors away. In all actuality, Steve knew that less than fifty feet separated them. Fifty feet of concrete and steel, and Steve felt every inch of it. </p>
<p>“Buck, you don’t, you don’t ever have to tell me about this if you don’t want to,” Steve felt the warble in his own voice. He wanted to know, to understand what happened to Bucky, but there is no way in hell he was going to force him into talking about something that was so blatantly painful.  </p>
<p>“No, it’s okay, Steve. Honestly, it’s why I wanted to talk to you. So you knew, so I can just be me, Bucky Barnes, when I’m with you. I just want you to see all of me, for me. If you want to.”</p>
<p>Steve let out the breath he didn’t even know he had been holding, “I want you tell me. Tell me all of it, or none of it. Whatever you want. Tell me what made you, you, and I’ll be here, as long as you want me.”</p>
<p>Bucky sniffled, “Okay, I can do this. I <em> want </em> to do this."</p>
<p>There was a pause and a deep breath, "I was a sniper, one of the best if I do say so myself. I got put on what was supposed to just be an easy, five or six hour supply run to an outpost. That’s it, just in and out, make sure some meds got delivered and that a VIP got dropped off alright. But HYDRA does whatever HYDRA wants.” Steve couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath. If HYDRA, a crazy fanatic militaristic company turned zealous cult, were involved, this was not going to be a cute bedtime story. Not that he had expected it to be, but HYDRA always made things worse. </p>
<p>Bucky continued, “One of our own guys, Rumlow, that fuckin’ asshat, tipped them off. Or was one of them all along, I’ve never been sure. Told them we had a VIP and some experimental meds on the truck or some shit. So, they did what they do best and blew us to hell. Six of my guys, my <em> friends, </em> were just gone, before I could even blink. But for some reason, Wade and I, they took us with them, along with that VIP. Put us in a cave and left us there. I thought I was a dead man Steve. Sometimes, sometimes, I wonder if it would have been better if I had been. Dead I mean. I know Wade sure wishes he was half the time. Even as happy as he is with his twink of a boyfriend and his stupid taco truck.”</p>
<p>Bucky choked, a wretched mix of laughter and tears. When he continued, it was barely a whisper, “A couple days later, when they came back, there was no interrogation, no questions, no bargaining. They just started cutting, whispering to each other about some serum, that I shouldn’t be dehydrated like I was, that I shouldn’t be bleeding out, asking me why I wasn’t healing like they expected. </p>
<p>“And Wade, Wade they <em> burned. </em> Every inch, an inch at a time. Asking him how much it hurt, and why didn’t he just put a stop to it. When that didn’t get the results they wanted, Rumlow got involved. He had never liked Wade or I much, took it personally that we loved what we did. That we were <em> good </em> at what we did. So, he started cutting and didn’t stop. He cut it off Steve, just like it was nothing. Well, not like it was nothing, it’s an entire fuckin' arm after all.”</p>
<p>Steve stayed quiet, forcing back his own tears, “It took a few more days of cutting and burning for Rumlow got bored and some guy named Pierce got involved. They eventually decided that they had had enough, that whatever it was they were hoping would happen wouldn’t. Once they had enough, they just left us in that damn cave. Wade broke his wrist to get out of the bed they had strapped him to, twisted his way out and then got me out of my own chair.</p>
<p>“Apparently, HYDRA had enough of the VIP by then too. They had left him strapped to a table, his chest strapped up to some wacked out heart monitors. We were lucky they hadn’t started cutting into him too. It was hard enough to get us all out of there in mostly one piece.  </p>
<p>“Once we finally dug our way out of the cave system, we were fortunate enough to be found within a few hours by a patrol that was searching for the VIP. They thought Wade and I had died with the rest of our unit, had even told my mom I was dead.”</p>
<p>Steve sniffled, louder than intended. He recognized at least part of the story. It had been all over the news when it happened. Tony Stark had been kidnapped by HYDRA while demonstrating his latest and greatest missile. He had been saved by two unnamed POWs, who had refused any sort of recognition or awards. </p>
<p>It’s what had eventually led to Stark Industries getting rid of the weapons department and going into clean energy and technology. And it was what had eventually led to Steve applying for a job at Stark and, eventually, the prosthetic marking gig. What had led him <em>here. </em></p>
<p>“Guess who that VIP was Steve. <em> Guess </em>.”</p>
<p>“Tony Stark,” Steve whispered. </p>
<p>“That’s right, the one and only Tony-fucking-Stark. Apparently, I just can’t stop getting my ass kicked for the guy. He doesn’t remember me, which, I mean, fair. It wasn’t a good experience. I wouldn’t wanna remember me either. Every time he comes strutting into my kitchen, telling me about how his arm saved my life, I don’t know whether I wanna laugh or cry. What an egotistical ass,” Bucky was holding back actual sobs by this point, trying to hide behind a joking facade.</p>
<p>Steve wanted, no, <em> needed </em> Bucky to know it was alright, that he didn’t need to hold back, that Steve wasn’t going anywhere, “Buck, it’s okay, you know, to cry sometimes. I want you to be able to cry with me. I’m not going anywhere.” </p>
<p>And Bucky finally did, letting go, at least in part, of the burden he had carried for years. It felt like hours, they sat there in near silence letting their tears fill the space between them, feeling closer than ever before, even with the walls between them.</p>
<p>It was Bucky who broke the silence with another chuckle, “That’s why <em> knives </em>of all things by the way.” </p>
<p>Unsure of how to respond, Steve stayed quiet, letting Bucky continue at his own pace. </p>
<p>“It’s so, as my therapist likes to say, so I could take control of the thing that took my control away from <em> me. </em> Take back my own narrative. Bonus, the creative side of it did wonders for my optimism, she said, much more so than the ‘give me a hand’ jokes. She also said it was a garbage coping mechanism, but she couldn’t deny it was working. So, she encouraged me to keep at it.  Plus, I just think they’re neat. I mean, what guy in his right mind wouldn’t want fucking <em> rainbow </em> knives! They’re gay <em>and</em> sharp.”</p>
<p>Steve laughed, “Only you, Bucky Barnes, would use gay as hell knives as a coping mechanism and charm your therapist into thinking it’s a good idea,” Steve sighed, trying to center himself, “Thank you for telling me, for trusting me enough to tell me.” </p>
<p>Bucky chuckled, “God, I just wanna kiss you Steve Rogers.  Do you know how happy just <em> knowing </em>you makes me?” Steve flushed, even though it wasn’t like he hadn’t just been wishing the same exact thing. </p>
<p>“Not as happy as knowing you has made me,” Steve didn’t even care that it was sappy, it was true and Bucky deserved to hear it. </p>
<p>“You’re such a sap Stevie.” Bucky was fading, voice going deep and groggy with drowsiness.  The low rumble did things to Steve he probably shouldn’t admit. </p>
<p>“Takes one to know one,” Bucky snorted, “Buck, you should go to sleep.” </p>
<p>“Geez grandpa, I’m fine.” </p>
<p>“Okay, why don't you just close your eyes then. I’ll stay on the line and we can just chat for a while?”</p>
<p>“You’ll really stay?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, bud, as long as you want to stay, I’m here. I want <em> you </em>here.  I’m with you to the end of the line.”</p>
<p>“You’re the best Stevie,” It was a bit slurred, and Steve could tell he was fading into sleep already. </p>
<p>“Did I tell you about the time Sam made me jump out of an airplane?” Steve prattled on as Bucky’s breathing slowed and evened out, and eventually they both fell asleep, feeling lighter than they had in years.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Basically, Bucky and his unit were transporting a VIP (Tony Stark) and some goods to an outpost, HYDRA bombed the convoy, killing 6 and taking Tony, Bucky, and Wade Wilson (yes that Wade Wilson) captive. Thinking that Bucky and Wade had some sort of super soldier serum, they took Bucky’s arm and tortured him and Wade. Eventually, HYDRA abandons them in the cave they were in and they break out and Tony strapped to a table, so they get him out too. They are soon found by a patrol looking for Tony.</p>
<p>Also, if you haven’t watched <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCg3qsVzHeUt5_cPpcRtoaJQ">this crazy knife dude</a> on YouTube, I highly recommend checking him out.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well we made it to the end folks! Thank you all for reading and a huge thank you all for the lovely comments and kudos.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>— Steve — </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After their all night conversation, things shifted between Bucky and Steve, entirely for the better. Steve started making plans for a future when he could take Bucky on a proper date, could show Bucky just how much he had come to mean to Steve. Of course, leave it to Bucky Barnes to beat him to the punch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 9:16 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Can I video call you?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve 9:17 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anytime babe</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky 9:22 AM: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cool, give me a minute </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve quickly switched into a hole free shirt and made sure the Cheetos dust was off his face before Bucky called. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey handsome!” Bucky grinned and Steve’s heartbeat raced. His hair was back in a perfectly styled half up thing that highlighted his cheekbones and made Steve want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>touch</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello there yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, I wanted to do this right. Well, as right as I could considering the circumstances.” Bucky shuffled nervously, “Steve Rogers, would you go on a date with me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve snorted at the formality. He knew that they had been working towards something, but once again, Bucky threw all of his expectations out of the water, “Bucky Barnes, I would love to go on a date with you. In about six months when we are free from this hell.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, I was thinking more like Friday at 7:00?” Steve gave him a glare and Bucky grinned, “I had an idea about how we could maybe go on an almost date. It's not perfect, but like I said, I want to treat you as right as I can, considering the circumstances.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then, yes Bucky, I would love to go on a date with you Friday.” Steve felt himself blush, feeling like he was in some kind of 1950’s musical when Bucky’s face lit up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perfect! Dinner will be at 7:00 followed by a movie. Sound good?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Buck, sounds good. On one condition.” Steve grinned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, and what would that be?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I get to pick the movie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh, I guess, you nerd.” Steve smiled, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clue </span>
  </em>
  <span>just seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Friday night rolled around, Steve felt like he was bubbling with excitement. Bucky had sent him a text earlier, telling him when he would drop off dinner and how to set up their watch party. Bucky wasn’t nearly as amused by his flim choice as Steve, but Steve insisted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At 6:55 exactly, Bucky’s signature knock echoed through Steve’s apartment. He was gone by the time Steve opened the door, but Steve had expected that based on their messages earlier. On the doormat was a bag and silver, covered tray that was heavy, and smelled of bright herbs and roasted tomatoes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve carted it into the kitchen table just as his laptop started chiming. They had agreed to set up so it was as close to sitting across from each other as they could get. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, sweetheart, did you grab dinner?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep!” Steve held up the overstuffed bag.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perfect, go ahead and open the stuff in the bag, except the big bucket. That's for later.” Steve started opening boxes, “And I do mean later, Steve. Don’t think I don't know how many cookies you ate for breakfast last week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve snorted, “In my defense, breakfast wasn’t ‘til noon and they had oatmeal in them. That’s a health food.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure it is. You got the glass jar? Okay, perfect. It’s full of this wine,” Bucky held up the bottle they were going to share, “The roasted beet and feta salad is our first course,” Steve snorted,  “Hey! Don’t laugh! I told you I was gonna do everything in my power to treat you right, which means four courses,” Steve kept chuckling. Listening to Bucky talk about food was poetic and he loved it, but sometimes Bucky went a bit overboard when he was feeding Steve. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jerk. Anyways, as I was saying, salad is our first course. Wanda made French bread today, so I stole a loaf of that from work, with some olive oil and herbs to dip it in. Second course is cheese stuffed arancini with roasted tomato and garlic sauce. Do you know what arancini is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I watch </span>
  <em>
    <span>Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Buck, and it’s deep fried. Yes, I know what arancini is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, you would. Don't open the tray yet. Third course needs to stay warm under there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They ate their way through the first two courses, small talking and laughing their way through the day’s events. Steve loved every moment, even when the increasingly familiar longing to be able to touch, to actually be able to hold Bucky’s hand, left a bittersweet sting in his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Halfway through the arancini, Steve realizes that he’s falling in love with Bucky. With someone he has never been allowed to touch. It’s a bit of a heady experience, knowing that he is falling for someone without the physical aspects that normally naturally come along. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And how could he not? Bucky was charming, kind, and just a bit ridiculous. He had done so much for Steve, but most importantly, he was someone Steve could simply talk to, who understood him and wanted him to be happy. Watching Bucky animatedly talk about his day, Steve wanted nothing more than to give him the world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatcha grinnin’ at you doofus?” Steve blushed, having been caught in his daydream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just your stupid face Buck. When do I get to open this gaudy tray of yours?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now seems like a good time as any, go for it,” Steve opened the lid and was greeted by the luscious smell of slow cooked beef, onion, and garlic. The plate was elegant in its own way, a large chuck of roasted, bone-in meat sat atop a pillowy bed of something ooey, gooey, and cheesy, “It’s osso bucco with Parmesan risotto. The green stuff in the tiny bowl is an herb and lemon gremolata, to brighten it a bit. Just sprinkle it on top.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When the hell did you have time to make osso bucco and risotto? Doesn't this take hours?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky laughed, “It does, but I cheated. I threw everything for the osso bucco in ‘Tasha’s crockpot and just let it go for a while. And I like making risotto, it's just a lot of stirring, which means I can just stand there and zone out for a bit, ya know? Bonus, I get to make arancini out of it,” He winked, “I like when I can do a couple things out of one dish. Makes me feel real </span>
  <em>
    <span>chefy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sprinkled on the herb mixture and took a bite. To say it was delicious would be an understatement. Bucky deserved every penny Stark paid him. The fatty beef and creamy risotto melted in his mouth, perfectly tender. The deeply roasted tomatoes and gremolata added just the right amount of brightness, lifting the entire dish. Steve moaned as he took another bite.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You keep making noises like that Stevie, and I’m gonna break all sorts of rules, virus or no virus.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve choked on his wine, and smirked, “Oh, what are you gonna do? Glare at me from six feet away the next time you bring me a knife to sharpen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someday, I’m gonna convince you to forgive me for that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just because I’ve forgiven you doesn’t mean I am ever gonna let it go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laughing, they both continued their meal and picked up the dishes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I really am gonna end up fat if you keep feeding me like this Buck. I think I’ve gained ten pounds in the last hour.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You haven’t even seen dessert yet. Wanna get changed into something more comfortable before we watch your stupid movie?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea actually,” Steve most certainly wanted to change. It was probably the touch starvation talking again, but watching Bucky throughout dinner had Steve half hard most of the night. His tight jeans may look good on camera, but they made his current situation a bit uncomfortable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Kay, see you in five,” Steve took off down the hall to pull  on a soft t-shirt and a pair of loose fitting pajamas. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he got back to the living room, Bucky had moved his laptop to his bedroom and had the movie queued and ready to go. Steve tried not to react to the sight of the blessed blued tank top and Steve’s favorite shorts on him. They hung just low enough that when Bucky stretched or moved, his shirt would ride up, giving Steve the perfect glimpse of pale skin and solid muscle. It was deliciously frustrating, and his dick gave another interested twitch. It was going to be a long night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, you’re back. Grab your dessert box and get comfy. Hope you don’t mind, I had to move into my room. I didn’t want Natasha to get back from the studio and interrupt.” He stretched out on his bed, shirt riding higher. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably smart. She’s way too curious for her own good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky hummed his agreement, “Do you have your dessert bucket?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I think I’m ready to go. You gonna judge me if I switch to beer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky pulled out a bottle of Natasha’s vodka with a wolf’s grin, “Only if you don’t tell Natasha.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They settled in for two hours of murder and mayhem, laughing and softly talking over the movie about various plot points and who they think the actual murderer was. Dessert turned out to be caramel and chocolate popcorn that Steve constantly munched on while he tried to watch the movie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve found himself more often than not watching Bucky on his laptop screen, as his hand trailed lazily up and down his side and leg, occasionally dipping under his shirt to lazily scratch his chest or stomach. It was more than just distracting, especially when Steve caught Bucky looking back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the credits started to roll, Bucky had started dozing off, the toil of the week finally catching up to him. Steve shutdown the watch party, but kept their stream open, making sure Bucky fell asleep alright. It had slowly become a habit, falling asleep on the phone together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky shifted, “Hey Steve, I have another question.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, what’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wannabemyboyfriend?” Bucky fumbled, anxious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve laughed, “Bucky, I swear, you have the strangest timing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you, I wanted to do it right, and that meant I had to take you on a date first,” Bucky frowned, obviously concerned, “You didn’t answer my question...” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s heart ached with longing, wishing he could show Bucky how much he wanted it, all of it, “Of course I want to be your boyfriend, ya doof. How could I not? </span>
  <span>You’re so good to me, taking care of me, keeping me fed and happy. And someday, when I can get my hands on you, I’m going to finally return the favor. And then I’m never gonna let you go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky grinned, “Is that supposed to be a threat?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a promise. Now go to sleep, you have to work in the morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love you, Stevie,”  Bucky whispered, soft with sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too, Buck,” Steve wasn’t surprised to find that he meant it from the bottom of his heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>— Six Weeks Later — </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So Stevie, what do you want for your birthday?” Steve sighed. His birthday was in twelve hours and the only thing he really wanted was to finally be able to hug, maybe even </span>
  <em>
    <span>kiss,</span>
  </em>
  <span> his boyfriend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even though most of the quarantine in the city had been lifted in mid-June, Steve still had to be careful with his shittastic lung function. They were trying to wait until Bucky was able to stop working directly at the hospitals and had been given the green light via the new comprehensive blood test. It had already been, and was going to be, a long wait. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was hard to be patient as life was slowly starting to settle into some kind of new normal for most of the city.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Buck, you’ve given me enough already. I really just want to spend time with you, even if it’s another damn Zoom date.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really, are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> about that? Because I think I might have something that could change your mind.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really, darlin', I would just like to spend the day talkin' to you, maybe have a watch party with you and the guys. But this year, I think I am content to just keep it quiet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky held up an envelope and waved it around a bit, a huge grin plastered across his face, “Even if I got you, say a rushed blood test and possibly three week vacation courtesy of one Tony Stark?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve stared, not sure if he heard correctly, “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky tore open the envelope and plastered the note against the camera. “Read it, Steve! Read it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve read it out loud, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Patient #####, James Buchanan Barnes, Test ##### has tested NEGATIVE for coronavirus COVID-19. Lack of antibodies in blood sample indicate that Patient ##### has not contracted COVID-19 at any time. Continued social distancing and vaccination, once available, are recommended. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve stuttered, “BUCKY! You’re clean! But what about the hospitals and the meals? And everything else?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Read the note!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a hand scrawled note across the lower half of the page.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Buckaroo-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<ol>
<li>
<em><span> Pepper says I need to say thank you. Apparently, you wanted to hide out in the Swiss Alps during this crisis and instead you came and helped me out. Can’t say I blame you for wanting to hide. I am so tired of this shit. (</span></em><em><span>But also, you should thank me for dragging your sorry ass back to New York and getting you a hot boyfriend.)</span></em>
</li>
<li><em><span> Consider this an official long term job offer. I want you to help me set up a more permanent help-the-hungry situation. And to cater dinner for me every second Tuesday, because damn, those stupid little tarts you make are delicious. </span></em></li>
<li>
<em><span> This is a big one. And not something I would normally do. But, it’s important. I realized the other day that you have been under the misconception that I don’t know </span></em><em><span>exactly</span></em><em><span> who you are and </span></em><em><span>exactly</span></em><em><span> what you did for me. I do know. You, and Wade, are the entire reasons for Stark Medical Charities. Don’t let it go to your head. Also, the job offer has absolutely NOTHING to do with that. Thats all you, and your hard work. I’m only gonna say this once, thank you for bringing me home and for putting me on a better path. Don't ever mention this to anyone.  </span></em>
</li>
<li><em><span> You’re on vacation for at least two weeks. Actually, make it three. Tell Steve he’s on the same. I don’t wanna see either of you until you’re done being newlyweds.  </span></em></li>
</ol>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You did good work kid. Now go kiss that boy of yours! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>P.S. Steve, you’re being promoted, sort of. I am putting you in charge of the new charity’s marketing. You did excellent work on the prosthetics program back  in 2015, and Bucky is gonna need all the help he can get with marketing the new meal program. And his image. Sometimes, I swear that guy’s some kind of murderer. Have you seen his knife collection? Yikes. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Steve said again, trying to process what the hell just happened. It was a lot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, Stevie, what do you want for your birthday?” Bucky asked again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve snapped out of his daze, “JUST GET YOUR ASS UP HERE!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Moments later, the familiar knock echoed in the apartment and Steve pulled open the door hard enough it slammed against the wall. His breath caught in his throat, seeing maskless Bucky this close, close enough he could smell the morning’s coffee and fresh bread. Close enough to finally see the steel blue eyes, and the flush of his cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hear you’re the fella a guy should talk to if he needs a knife sharpened.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d better come in then,” Bucky grinned as Steve stepped aside to let him in and shut the door, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>god </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was so much better in person.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Overcome with joy and relief, Steve tried to hiccup back his tears, “Buck—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With tears of his own, Bucky dropped the duffel bag he was carrying to reach up to cradle Steve’s face, “Hey now, I can’t be that ugly in person.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve instantly melted into the touch, chuckling through the tears. It felt like a weight had finally lifted from his chest and heart, “No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I just, we’ve had to wait so long, you know,” Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, pulling them close. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, Bucky closed the distance, his lips claiming Steve’s own, soft questioning at first, but soon turning urgent and needy. Steve pulled back, taking a deep breath as he took Bucky’s face in his hands, their foreheads touching. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Welcome home Bucky, welcome home,” Steve whispered, taking Bucky’s hand and leading him inside. Now that Steve finally had him, he was never letting go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>— Epilogue  — Bucky — </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two and a half weeks into their three week, Tony Stark sanctioned “quarantine honeymoon,” as their terrible friends had dubbed it, Steve asked Bucky to stay, saying that he knew it was probably too fast, but he didn’t care. They both knew what it was like to live without the other, being so close and yet so far, and neither of them ever wanted to live like that again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Bucky told Natasha, she finally decided to take the opportunity to explain herself and why she had let them wallow in misunderstanding for so long. When Bucky moved in with her, she had wanted to set them up, but in her own version of love, had decided that they needed to figure things out on their own and to create their own relationship, without her forcing anything. When the whole “Fucky” incident had happened, she knew that she had to step in and get them on track.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And so, Bucky, and all of his knives moved in. Before he knew it, Bucky had a loving home and a, more often than not, weird, but steady job working for Stark Charities. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before they knew it, two years had passed and Bucky sat on their couch in their new home, rolling the steel between his fingers. It was cold, grounding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Buck, whatcha got there? A new knife?” Steve carried in a plate of food and curled into Bucky’s side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, not exactly? It’s part of an old knife actually. One of the first one’s I ever made, and the first one you ever sharpened for me. I took it into that blacksmith workshop place I found in Manhattan. The over priced, stuffy one. I needed to do some work on it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought they told you they wouldn’t let you work on knives there, or work with your own materials like you wanted. They didn’t want to feel responsible for something happening or some crap like that? ”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but then I told them a story. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Our </span>
  </em>
  <span>story, actually. And they told me they would make an exception.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, good! So, what did you do then?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky held out his hand taking Steve’s in his own, before opening his other palm, where two Damascus steel rings sat side by side. Each was about a half inch wide, showing off the almost perfectly preserved undulating ring pattern that had made the knife so special in the first place, a never ending circle, always leading back into itself while growing ever larger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After everything he had lost, Bucky thought that he would never find a place where he belonged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he slipped that ring over Steve’s finger, Bucky knew that, together, they had forged a new home and he would never be lost again.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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